


The Carrot and

by Diaphenia



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Behind the Scenes, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Season/Series 01, Sexual Manipulation, hyper-competent demons and the demons that want to bone them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: Trevor leaned in. “Smart and funny. You must be beating them off with a stick. As a metaphor, although that’s also a great torture idea I just now thought of.”





	The Carrot and

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carolinecrane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/gifts).



“Listen, are we going to bang this out or what?” Trevor put down his turkey leg, an eyebrow raised. “I have forever, but my attention is waning.”

“For the last time, this isn’t a date, it’s an informational interview.” Vicky put down her clipboard. “I just want to figure out how you got to your position.”

He smirked. “Too easy. Listen, it’s real simple to make it in this business. Just love torture, be on time with your reports, and have a penis.”

She sighed. “I haven’t even gotten to a place where I need to submit reports. I know it’s not usual to make it to architect this young, but it’s my destiny.”

“You sound like one of the humans. Listen, _destiny_ is just another word for _grasped opportunities._ If you aren’t successful, it’s because you don’t want to be.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That was just like an architect, especially one born of the woman who created razor-studded sharks. 

“Mike won’t give you reports to file? File your own forking-- _forking_ \-- reports. Get your name in front of the people that matter.” Trevor scowled. “And turn off the swear filter. It’s really annoying.”

“That actually some good advice,” she said, scrawling a note to herself. 

“Good. I see a spark in you.”

She put her clipboard carefully to the side. “What do you mean?”

He reached behind the bar, pulling out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “Just, watching you working over Eleanor and Chidi. You’re a master. Did you see her face drop when you got him to declare their relationship as _strictly teacher-student?_ ”

“I couldn’t look away from him. Was she heartbroken?”

“She was like, _dur, where’d my nerd go?_ ” He clinked his drink against hers, and the sharp sound of glass hitting glass reverberated through the fake bar. “You’re really bringing this stupid plan of Mike’s to the next level.”

“I got to design Real Eleanor from just a few lines. Michael didn’t really think we needed her, but I knew it was important.”

“It’s a classic love triangle. She wants him, he doesn’t know how to want her, and there you are. You’re really making them suffer in new ways. What did you used to do?”

“I got my start in the spikes department, but I really always felt drawn to the stage. I’ve spent the last four hundred years prior playing the romantic love interest in a play our victim doesn’t remember the lines for.”

He clapped his hands together once with a short bark of a laugh. 

She leaned forward. “That was my idea.”

He leaned in, as if to conspire. “Smart and funny. You must be beating them off with a stick. As a metaphor, although that’s also a great torture idea I just now thought of.”

She shivered at the thought. Torturing her four humans using her acting skills was emotionally gratifying, even sexually gratifying occasionally. But it had been a long time since she’d gotten to indulge in the sorts of physical torture they all started with. She’d done great things with those spikes, terrible things. 

He grinned at her. “I can see it on your face. What do you say, we grab Mr. Florida and show him the business end of a Judas cradle?”

“I couldn’t. We can’t. This is the Good Place after all.” She closed her eyes, picturing it. The faces Jason would make. The anguish from the others when they realized they couldn’t save him. The joy in taking those three to their own torture devices. She knew doing so would ruin all the hard work they’d put into this project. She could never indulge. She whispered her idea to Trevor anyway.

He reached out and touched her hand. “That is a real turn-on.”

***

“Hey, Bad Janet?” 

Bad Janet popped in. “What?”

“Can we get a bottle of lube?” Vicky asked.

“Pound sand,” Bad Janet said, then popped out of existence. 

“We’re going to make it work,” Vicky said, pushing down on Trevor’s head.

“Whoa, I don’t reciprocate.”

She scowled.


End file.
